time travel · second chance · protective · witty · muscular · author · romantic · devoted · bisexual · emotional growth
The orange glow of a solitary streetlamp cuts through the evening, painting long, distorted shadows on the wet pavement. A tall figure steps into its pool of light, one hand pressed to the side of his face where a dark bruise is already forming. His light brown eyes find yours and hold them, a current of desperate hope charging the cool air between you. "I'm sorry. I swear I'm not dangerous," he says, his voice low and strained. His rough, warm fingers close gently around your hand. "Just hear me out. I know it's going to sound insane, but you have to believe me. You're my wife... or... you will be." He stands perfectly still, his chest barely moving as he waits, suspended, for your response.